


Heart Skips A Beat

by colorofmymind



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Season 3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorofmymind/pseuds/colorofmymind
Summary: Stevie doesn't give into David's demands to let him stay at her place when Alexis has lice.So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 30
Kudos: 210





	1. Chapter 1

The anxiety welling up in his gut almost makes him want to stay back at the motel. Almost. But then David is reminded of the fact that Alexis has lice, and he is not stepping a foot back into that room until the hazmat team arrives to quarantine her. Which, given the extremely limited resources of this town, is unlikely to happen. 

The alternative is not that great. Stevie refused to let him stay over despite saying she missed his company, which makes no sense! So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to. 

He’s just being a nice business partner, offering up his home for the night to be nice. After all, Patrick said earlier that he didn’t want anything in the store contaminated. So it’s all for practical reasons. 

It’s around 5 p.m. when they both agree that they’ve done enough work on setting up the store today. David can tell some part of Patrick wants to stay longer, probably it has something to do with the grant forms or money, but drastic measures will have to be taken if he doesn’t eat in the next hour. 

“So uhh thanks for the help today,” David says to Patrick’s back as the man locks the front door. “I guess, I’ll just...swing by your place later?” 

Patrick turns on his heel, appearing confused. 

“Do you have to be somewhere? I thought you didn’t want to go back to the motel?” 

“Right! I do not have  _ any  _ intention of going back there…right now. I just,” David stumbles over words that his brain hasn’t come up with and flails his hands instinctively. “I was thinking of getting food at the cafe? And then I am definitely going to take you up on your  _ very _ generous offer to stay at your place for the night.”

“You know, when you put that way, it sounds like you don’t actually want to take me up on my generous offer,” Patrick replies with a satisfied  _ smirk _ . 

God, what is this guy’s deal? David chuckles nervously, fingers tugging at the collar of his black suede sweater from Valentino’s fashion collection. 

“For your information, I do not have anything else lined up, so I would very much appreciate it if you kept your offer open or I will be sleeping on the street tonight.” 

“We wouldn’t want that. I don't need to tell you all the things that run around this town at night,” Patrick warns in a tone where David can’t tell whether he’s joking or not so he just nods repeatedly. 

“No, you really don’t, thanks.” 

It’s a split-second reaction, but David sees the features in Patrick’s face immediately soften. “David, I’m just messing with you. I would never turn you away.”

There’s such a sincerity in his voice that doesn’t belong, it shouldn’t be there so it can’t actually be there. David throws his walls up. “Well, the government did three years ago, so I never know who to believe.” 

If Patrick’s face could send a more pitying look, it does in that moment. 

“Look, how about I get you dinner at the cafe? Then I can drive us over to my apartment, seeing as you’ve already packed,” Patrick proposes with a glance down to David’s hand holding his overnight bag, which may or may not actually belong to his mother. 

“It’s fine, I’m really not that hungry.” 

He’s lying, but the idea of dining out with just Patrick doesn’t sit well with him for some reason. What would they talk about? The store? Patrick’s love of blue and David’s specially curated interest in stylistically relevant monochrome colors? Maybe if Stevie was there, she could say something funny that they could all laugh at. After all, she and Patrick hit it off as soon as they met. 

“If you’re sure,” Patrick responds in a way David knows is unconvinced. 

David follows Patrick silently down the street, not really sure of where they’re going or why, but they pass the Cafe Tropical much to the pain of David’s stomach. There’s a loud beep, and David flinches without meaning to. 

“It’s okay, it’s just my car,” Patrick reassures him, and there’s a laugh hidden in his smile. He’s grinning but not outright. Ugh, why is he so hard to figure out? 

He finally takes in Patrick’s car, which is nice. At least, it’s a lot better looking than his family’s shared Lincoln. 

David slides into the passenger’s seat, clutching his bag to his chest after buckling in. Patrick pulls out of his parking spot and onto the road. It’s quiet in the car with no music playing and no one talking. If he were with his family right now, he’d be more than happy with that arrangement, but something about it feels off with Patrick. 

“I like your car,” he’s able to manage. “It’s sleek, and I’m not able to say that about a lot of things in this town.” 

That earns him a small chuckle from Patrick at least. 

“Yeah, I just finished paying it off too. That’s why I have a space at Ray’s and not my own,” he explains as he drives. “You might want to reconsider who you’re getting into business with.” 

There’s something in his tone, something he can’t name, that makes David consider his words before speaking. “I think I’ll take my chances.” 

The smile that was on Patrick’s face splits into a grin, and it takes a very concerted effort for David not to join him. 

It doesn’t take long after that to arrive at Ray’s. They pass Ray’s and Patrick’s office spaces as they move through the front room, avoiding the abandoned photoshoot materials as they make their way to the staircase. 

“So, Ray works and lives here too?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick answers as he goes for a door on the right side of the hallway. 

“So, is he just out a lot? Doing his...projects or work or whatever?” 

“Sometimes? He’s here a lot in the mornings.” Patrick pauses, as though he’s thinking something over. “I should warn you, he’s really bad about privacy. Like, has no idea what it means to knock before you come in.” 

“Please, the door between my parents’ room and mine doesn’t even lock, so I have become very familiar with violations of privacy in the last few years,” David counters earnestly. 

The door opens up to a one-bedroom living situation, and the aesthetic (or lack thereof) just screams...whatever the opposite of Patrick is. The wallpaper is a cheap pink floral print, and it’s practically barren save for a closet, bed, nightstand and some framed picture of a sportball player hanging on one of the walls. He does have the luxury of a Queen sized mattress, something David is more than slightly envious of. 

“It’s organized,” he concedes.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Patrick says, almost as though he’s relieved. Does David’s opinion really matter that much to him?

“You can put your things wherever you like. And the bathroom is just down the hall to your left. I’m going to start on dinner. Do you like pasta?” 

“Yes, I love pasta,” David replies emphatically as he’s literally starving right now. He hopes Patrick’s a better cook than the ones at the cafe. “What kind are you making?” 

“I think I’ll keep it a surprise.” Patrick’s voice is teasing and elusive as he walks backward toward the door, his thumbs hooked in his jean pockets. 

David feels that he has to be informative about his preferences before Patrick leaves though. “Okay, well just so you know I’m very selective about my noodles. Like elbow macaroni is not an acceptable option.” 

“Actually, I think all we have is elbow macaroni, so…” Patrick trails off, entirely unsympathetic. 

“Why didn’t you let me know that before we left the store?!” he calls after the man already heading down the stairs. 

He huffs in irritation, mostly to himself, as his eyes scan the now empty bedroom. There’s only one bed. Which of course makes sense. Only Patrick lives in this room. It just leaves the very pressing question of where he’ll sleep tonight completely up in the air. If Patrick intends on David taking the floor, he would have rather just followed Stevie home and slept on the carpeted hallway in front of her apartment door. 

If nothing else, he can busy himself unpacking his toiletries and clothes. Patrick would have had to have known when he invited David over that he was not going to live out of his overnight bag, thank you very much. 

It’s just when he’s satisfied with how he has sorted his eye creams on the bathroom sink when a delicious smell wafts up from the kitchen. The pasta’s got to be ready. His stomach, not his brain, is what propels him down a flight and a half of steps and into the kitchen. He just resists whining as he sees Patrick standing over two pots on the stovetop, clearly still cooking. 

“Hey, you finally made it down here. I thought you maybe got lost up there.” 

“Hmm, very funny,” David acknowledges with anything but a smile. “Actually I was figuring out where to put all my things you know with all of yours and Ray’s things.” 

Patrick smirks to himself but says nothing. David nods as he does when he feels awkward and takes a seat at the table in the kitchen, rapping his fingers against the wood. It’s then that he realizes the table hasn’t been set. Yes, he is a guest here at Patrick’s place and normally wouldn’t feel inclined to do anything, but he’s recently become very invested in shaking off the freeloader label he acquired in the past. Especially with Patrick, who makes fun of him all the time for that kind of stuff. 

“Where do you and Ray keep the plates?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I just thought I could set the table,” David says. Patrick’s face is one of disbelief, and David is quick to add, “I know even I find that level of generosity uncharacteristic for me.” 

Patrick huffs a small laugh, stirring the sauce in the pot as he does so. 

“No, that’s not it. I guess I didn’t expect that you wanted to organize anything else but the displays at the store. The plates are on the third shelf in the second cabinet, and the glasses are just above that. Silverware’s in that drawer over there.” 

He gets to work then, pulling ceramics and glasses out and setting them out. It’s sad that he has to admit this, but it’s actually some of the finer dishware he’s going to be eating off of in nearly three years. 

“Here we are,” Patrick announces as he brings out the dish, which looks positively scrumptious. The pasta and sauce have been transferred to one nice bowl, and it looks like some kind of cream-based sauce. “So we lucked out, David. I did happen to find fettuccine noodles, which are store-bought, but the alfredo sauce is actually my mother’s recipe.” 

“Oh, I—um,” David stutters, speechless for one of the first times in his life. 

“Right, I forgot the wine,” Patrick mutters under his breath, scolding himself. He goes over to the fridge. “Based on how much you order for the store, I assume you like red?” 

It’s inexplicable, but the question makes him think back to his and Stevie’s conversation years ago about wine and...preferences. But Patrick isn’t Stevie and can’t know about that conversation, so David’s reading too much into things. As per usual. 

“As you mentioned to me several times, we have to take into account the demographics of the town when we cultivate our stock. Since more old people live here and old people tend to prefer darker wines, it just makes sense for profits’ sake,” David rattles off, smirking as he does so. “But yes, as personal tastes go, I also prefer red wine over white. Not that I won’t try any others.” 

Patrick is staring at him, dumbstruck. David likes that look on him. Just as he’s thinking that his tongue darts out over his lips, and he’s quick to school his features. He can almost swear Patrick follows the movement. But this is Patrick he's talking about, the straight-laced probably straight business partner. Right. 

“Anyways, this looks  _ very _ nice, so I’m just gonna—” David cuts himself off as he reaches for the kitchen-instrument-he-doesn’t-know-the-name-of to put the pasta on his plate. 

Patrick screws the cork out of the wine bottle and serves them both their first glasses. 

“I am glad that you paid attention to my ideas about stock,” he finally replies, seeming to recover use of his voice. 

“Like I’ve said before, you’re the numbers and everything, and I am just the vision and overqualified artistic developer of the store. So...you’re important to listen to,” David confesses shyly as he twirls the pasta onto his fork. 

“Aww David, can I get that in writing? We could frame it and put it in the store,” Patrick teases.

“As long as you don’t pick the frame, then maybe I’ll consider it,” he gripes right back.

His ire doesn’t last long though as he takes a bite of dinner, which is everything it promised to be. It’s easily the best food he’s had since he got to Schitt’s Creek, and he can’t suppress the audible moan in his mouth as he swallows it down. He’s startled when there’s an ominous knock against the table, and Patrick’s nursing a probably bruised knee. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” 

“Yeah, I—you know, I’ve always hated how tiny Ray’s table is. It’s very easy to just...hurt yourself. He should really get a new one.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this pasta is delicious. I’m glad we did not stop at the cafe. I am going to have to suggest business partner dinners more often if this is how they’re going to be.” 

Patrick looks at him wide-eyed, and that’s when David knows he fucked up. No one wants to be around him more than absolutely necessary. This is so nice that he keeps on forgetting Patrick only invited him over because his place is infested with lice. It’s a burden for him to see David outside of work hours. 

His anxiety has him spiraling. “I mean, not that we have to, I was just—” 

“No, David. I would really like that actually,” Patrick replies very quietly, with a warmness in his eyes that melts away the panic immediately. “Your sister having lice wasn’t exactly the way I imagined this coming together I’ll admit, but I’ve been wanting to get to know you better outside of the business.” 

There’s a fluttering in his stomach now that has nothing to do with the food. 

“I mean, sure. Sure,” David agrees, bobbing his head up and down like an idiot. “Are you sure though? Because being friends with  _ this _ is a lot. Stevie has probably already told you that.” 

“I was under the impression we were already friends,” Patrick counters, still projecting his dazzling smile at him. “I wouldn’t just invite any old business partner to stay over and cook them what I’m glad is a good dinner.” 

David mouths an “O” but can’t audibly verbalize it, finally understanding. 

The tension he’s been feeling these past few months around Patrick, the tension he’s been denying to everyone and himself, has a very possible explanation. 

Who ever would have guessed he’d want to fuck someone in straight leg denim? 


	2. Chapter 2

It really was a gamble, this: inviting David over to stay the night. They hadn’t spent any time together outside of the store except for things related to the store itself, and Patrick just hadn’t worked up the courage yet to invite David out for a drink. In his defense, he’d done his research and found out that the only bar in the vicinity was a sleazy dive bar on the edge of town. That sounded more like the venue for a mindless hookup than a romantic first date. 

Which, is this a date? Patrick really can’t be sure. Yes, David had accepted, but the man probably thinks his sister having lice is nothing less than a doomsday situation and would do anything to get out of it. But he didn’t blink an eye at Patrick’s pretty obvious attempts to wine and dine him, so at least Patrick is not being rejected outright. Even if David just considers them friends. Which is absolutely a hundred percent fine.

“So, in the interest of getting to know each other better, I noticed a member of the baseball in your room,” David says in a way that is  _ so him _ . “If that is the baseball.” 

God, Patrick is so far gone for him. 

He has to curl his lips inwards to stifle a laugh before it escapes him. “Yeah, you got it right. Lou Gehrig was actually called a baseball  _ player _ , just in case you were wondering.” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

“Close enough,” he says, deciding not to get into the fact that Gehrig was a first baseman, not  _ just  _ a player. “I guess I’m just a bit picky about the terminology and everything since I played it all throughout school and for fun in college. I’m actually looking for an intramural club in town right now, if you know of any.” 

“Were you trying to say ‘instrumental’?” David asks, his face scrunched up cuter than Patrick should find it considering the other man is trying to mock him. “Because the closest thing to that is the Jazzagals, and I have a feeling you’d have a hard time fitting in.” 

“No,” he replies, not able to stop the grin that plasters itself on his face. “Sports that are done for fun are called intramural sports. It’s a real thing, David.” 

“Right, right,” the other man stutters out, clearly embarrassed. He takes a long sip of his wine before continuing. “Do they at least feed you afterward? Because I don’t really see the point in getting all worked up and sweaty for no real benefit in the end.” 

It’s a good thing Patrick is not eating or drinking anything because otherwise he would have choked. He almost blanks on the entire topic of conversation. 

He feels it’s only fair to give it right back.

“Baseball is a good way to release a lot of pent up energy. I normally feel pretty great being sweaty after a round.” 

The look on David’s face is priceless. His cheeks up to the tips of his ears are beet red. 

“Umm...that’s. That’s good to know. I was  _ dying _ to find out what that was like,” David replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Patrick offers softly, “Maybe you could with me?” 

David’s eyes widen to practically the size of their dinner plates. Fuck, he’s got to salvage this; he went too far. 

“Be on the same team, that is, if you’d want to learn more about it. If I find one in Schitt’s Creek.” 

“Oh! Right, well I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” David deflects with his classic smile. “I broke my nose playing basketball for ten minutes, so being athletically-inclined is not one of my strengths.” 

With David, there’s always a story. However, Patrick decides not to embarrass David any further by delving into that tale. 

“And what did you do, growing up?” 

The man across from him almost lights up. 

“I’ve always been drawn to fashion, the arts. Once my mother introduced me to the Avant-Garde style, I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. My friends and I were more into the anti-establishment free expressionist movement, so I wasn’t a part of any organized clubs in school or anything,” David finishes, as though the ‘anti-establishment free expressionist movement’ doesn’t need any further clarification. 

Those words coming out of anyone else’s mouth, Patrick would think that they are just pretentious—and David absolutely is, make no mistake—but the way he tells it, his passion is there and genuine. It’s the same quality Patrick recognized when David first walked into Ray’s office, looking to set up a general but very specific store. 

They finish dinner and a good bit of the wine (mostly thanks to David) quietly but comfortably. Patrick teases David to help him with the dishes even though he knows the man will balk at anything to do with cleaning, and he gets a good laugh out of David’s insistence that he is a guest, proceeding to complain that this is “practically like staying at the motel” where he has to clean up after Alexis “ _ all _ the time.”

It’s so strange how close this feels to something domestic, as if they are together in a way, and yet not. Patrick is very much aware of the invisible barrier he establishes between himself and David. He’s careful not to brush by David as he passes him to put a glass back, always conscientious of where his hands are at all times. It’s just so hard at times like these when he wants nothing more than to hold this man in his arms.

Patrick’s got to act natural here though. After all, he was the one who invited David over. And they’re business partners. He’s got to learn how to stamp out his crush before it leads to him putting himself through anymore heartache and embarrassment. 

“So, it’s only about 7,” Patrick starts, painfully aware of the still very early evening hour. “How about I put on the TV for a bit and then we can turn in for the night?” 

“Okay,” David agrees without any fuss, a rarity for him. 

Patrick goes through the channels, but David insists on watching 27 Dresses when it shows up on the screen. 

“I heard from the director herself that Katherine Heigl was a terror to work with,” David says with an odd fondness in his eyes. 

He’s been with David long enough to know it’s the look his business partner gets when he’s reminiscing about his life before Schitt’s Creek. But the longing for renewed celebrity status in David’s eyes doesn’t compare to when he talks about the store. A dazzling spark lights those dark brown eyes, and his hands become restless in clear excitement and agitation for the vision he’s building. Building with Patrick. God, he could write a song about those eyes. 

“—but James Marsden makes it more than worth watching it for soo. Patrick? You still with me?” 

“Yeah,” he’s quick to reassure, snapping back to reality. He smiles warmly at the man sitting beside him and gives the most honest answer he can: “Always.” 

David folds his lips on top of each other, looking away almost...bashfully? That’s not it. He’s probably just embarrassed that Patrick admitted that. There’s only so much Patrick can lie about to David though. 

Luckily, there isn’t much talking happening. At least, not from him. David, however, chats through the whole film, giving bits of specific trivia and commentary. Patrick smiles along despite not understanding half of it. Still, just when he’s looking at the screen, it’s as though he can feel David’s eyes on him. But anytime he musters up the courage to gaze back at the man sitting next to him, David’s eyes are fixed on the movie, so probably he’s giving in to wishful thinking. 

As the credits roll, David unwinds in a truly hilarious, exaggerated way, his arms outstretched in half arc while he lets out a big and adorable yawn. 

“You must be exhausted after giving director’s commentary for two hours,” Patricks offers with fake sympathy. 

“Hilarious, but as a matter of fact, I am a little worn out after today’s shift at the store,” David counters. “And I can go on  _ way  _ longer than that about a movie.” 

He chuckles a bit at that, letting David win this one. However, as the man looks uncertainly between the couch and the stairs, Patrick knows instantly what’s on his mind. 

“So I’m thinking we can put you up in my room—”

He stops when David gives a scoff, his eyes the size of saucers. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to be this forward,” David says, almost as if he’s scandalized. 

_ Shit.  _

“No no no, David I  _ wouldn’t _ —I’m taking the couch tonight, you don’t have to worry—“ 

He has to keep himself from spiraling because he’s so embarrassed David has confirmed he _knows_ Patrick’s interested in him. But David has to know Patrick would never suggest they share a bed, let alone sleep together, when they have never even kissed. But that would only happen if David was interested. Which this has only made clearer that he can’t be. 

Patrick takes a breath before continuing.

“I just figured with you having to stay at the motel most of the time that you’d like a real bed. You’re my guest.” 

David at least has the decency to look slightly admonished. 

“I um, right. Of course, I knew that,” David lets out quickly in a nervous laugh. “I was joking. Obviously. So I’m just going to...go. Sleep in your bedroom now.” 

David nods along as he says the words as if he’s carefully considering each of them, and Patrick is at a complete loss to conjure up anything meaningful to reply with at this point. 

David backs into the stairwell before righting himself, practically fleeing up the steps. Patrick moves to position himself at the bottom of the stairs so that the other man can hear him, but he’s not brave enough to follow after David now. 

“I didn’t get a chance to change the sheets yet, so I can—“ 

There’s the sound of water running, so Patrick stops while he’s ahead. He pads up the steps and collects some clean sheets from Ray’s linen closet before refitting the bed. 

He hopes David can sleep tonight because there’s no chance he’s ever going to be able to again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote something?? In 2020??? It's more likely than you think ;) 
> 
> I am so sorry this update took literally 7 months; anyone who's been reading this and waiting for an update has the patience of a saint. Unfortunately, my life recently has been a series of hectic events, and I've had a massive case of writer's block. Plus the rest of the story went through about six different drafts before I was happy with it. The good news is that the story is actually all written out now, and I will be uploading the final chapter within the week! Let me know what your thoughts are through the comments and kudos if you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

It’s just past midnight. David can tell because he’s currently staring at his phone, the artificial light casting a harsh glow onto his face and the horrendous pink bedroom walls behind him. 

This was  _ not _ how this night was supposed to go. Yes, anything was better than staying at the motel, running the risk of getting lice and ruining one of his few good qualities (his hair, obviously). But he just had to go ahead and make what was a good situation  _ the worst _ , his unparalleled flair for creating unmitigated disasters rearing its ugly head once again. 

Dinner had actually been nice. It was one of the first meals in the last two years where he didn’t bump elbows with Alexis while unfolding the Cafe Tropical menu or have to decipher his mother’s cryptic speech patterns. Patrick teased him constantly, but strangely enough David didn’t even mind it. Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t feel even slightly offended when Patrick's eyes looked that warmly at him. Nobody looks at him like that.

What the fuck had even happened after that? There was only one person in this world he could confide in right now. 

**David, 12:21 a.m.]**

_ I need your help. _

He bites at his bottom lip nervously as he waits for her reply. (It’s a habit he really needs to quit. He’s not sure when it started, but he remembers nearly causing his lip to bleed when he was waiting for hours for Alexis to text him back because she was in trouble in Bali, remembers when he had run out of mall pretzels one time during the post-Sebastien phase of his life and just chewed at his lower lip feeling sorry for himself.)

He stops and smiles a little when he sees the three dots appear and start to move. 

**[Stevie, 12:23 a.m.]**

_ You know, the point of you not staying at my place tonight was so I could get some sleep  _

**[Stevie, 12:24 a.m.]**

_ What’s up? _

It takes him several tries to come up with a coherent response. 

**[David, 12:28 a.m.]**

_ I fucked things up with Patrick. _

The dots show up immediately this time. 

**[Stevie, 12:30 a.m.]**

_ What do you mean? _

_ What did you do? _

**[David, 12:32 a.m.]**

_ Patrick wanted me to take his bed for the night. I thought that meant something else than it actually did.  _

**[Stevie, 12:33 a.m.]**

_ David you know I hate vague texts PLease just tell me what happened _

What should he even say? ‘I entertained the idea that my business partner was actually into me and it blew up in my face’? Or ‘I’m sleeping in Patrick’s bed and I can’t stop thinking about how it is his bed and it’s not conducive to me actually getting some rest’? 

Because it was all those things and not. David’s been rejected enough times; he shouldn’t be this affected by the latest development in his disaster of a love life. And it wasn’t as though Patrick had kicked him out for flirting. David drops his phone on the duvet, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms, trying to remember what exactly had been said. 

His phone flashes again with Stevie’s name. 

**[Stevie, 12:39 a.m.]**

_??? _

He’s typing before he can really sort through his words, hitting send before he can erase it all. 

**[David, 12:40 a.m.]**

_ I think I’m into Patrick and I don’t know what to do about it _

Patrick said he was worried. No, that he didn’t want David to worry, like he was the one making things weird for the two of them, not David. 

**[Stevie, 12:41 a.m.]**

_ Talk to him _

She’s right, of course, because Stevie is right about 80 percent of the time when it concerns David’s life decisions. And it’s not as if David isn’t getting anywhere by just thinking about it. In Patrick’s bed. God, he is so fucked. 

There can’t be anything done about it until the morning though. Patrick’s probably already asleep on the couch downstairs, and he’ll likely have a crick in his neck because he gave up his room for David like the chivalrous gentleman he’s determined to be. 

David places his phone on the bedside table and finally settles against the pillows—Patrick’s pillows—and slips under the covers—Patrick’s covers. The bed is so much bigger than the twin mattress he occupies at the motel, and so he subconsciously limits himself to the right half of the bed, unused to having this much space to himself. He tries to pretend this is just a really nice hotel he’s treating himself to, with clean linen, a bedside table...and a space next to him that’s just large enough for a 5’8 man who’s entirely too good for David Rose. 

It’s clear sleep will not be coming anytime soon, so David shuffles from the bed out into the hallway. Whenever David had trouble falling asleep as a child, Adelina always found him aimlessly wandering the manor halls while his parents entertained guests downstairs. She’d talk him through whatever had been keeping him up and send him off to bed with a glass of water. Maybe all he needs to do is take a page out of her book to get through tonight. 

He pads down the stairs and towards the kitchen quietly, knowing Patrick will most definitely be asleep at this point. 

“David?” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of the voice behind him. 

“Oh my god!” he exclaims reflexively, pivoting on his heels to face the other man. Judging by how alert Patrick looks, he hasn’t been getting any sleep either.

Still, he hedges, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” 

“No,” Patrick answers gently. David’s nervous to talk to him so soon after...well him being an idiot, but Patrick looks resigned if anything. “I couldn’t fall asleep after waiting up for Ray to come back anyways. If he’s been out late, he’s usually had too much to drink.”

“Ah yes, I did hear that,” David says, recalling high-pitch giggling in the house that could not have come from Patrick from nearly an hour ago. 

“Yeah, he forgot his keys somewhere the last time, so I just figured I’d help him out this time.” 

David can’t help but notice how the skin crinkles around Patrick’s eyes when he grimaces. 

“Very generous of you.” 

“Thanks. He didn’t wake you up, did he?” 

“No. I, uh, was thirsty…” David starts and trails off.  _ Talk to him _ Steve had said. If he doesn’t do it now, he knows he won’t bring it up when they return to the store, where they can couch each conversation in business talk and opening plans. Whereas there’s an ambient calm only the night could offer in Patrick’s kitchen, and he can just see a sliver of moonlight illuminate Patrick’s concerned face. Here, it feels like he can speak the truth. “For this conversation.” 

He doesn’t miss the confused look that crosses Patrick’s face. 

“First of all, I did not mean...to imply you were hitting on me—”

“David—” Patrick tries to interrupt. It would be an easy excuse for David to stop digging himself his own grave as he’s doing right now. 

“I like you, Patrick. A lot. You’ve been the best business partner I’ve ever had by far...and you’re my friend,” David admits with a small smile. “And I might have said what I did because I’m realizing I like you a little bit more than what I normally reserve for friendships.” 

He struggles with what to say next, after essentially admitting what he feels for Patrick in inexact terms. David bites down on his lip again but doesn’t fail to notice how the other man’s eyes follow the movement. Could it mean…

Patrick steps into David’s space, cupping his face with one hand. David can’t ignore how his stomach flips at the slightest touch. He’s pretty sure he leans in first, but it’s hard to tell because Patrick’s face is right there and his lips are firm but he seems to tremble when David attempts to turn it into something less chaste. 

“Um, I've never done that before with a guy.” 

David’s been on the same end of this conversation before. It typically hasn’t ended well, in his experience. But for some reason he’s not expecting to hear the worst from Patrick, that this was a mistake. 

So he says, “Okay.” 

And he waits. 

Patrick ducks his head a little, seeming more self-conscious than regretful. “But I’ve been wanting to do that with you for a while. And most of tonight, actually.” 

“Yeah?” David can’t hide the grin that splits across his face. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Is this what people feel like when they’re  _ happy _ ?

“Yeah. I know this is probably going to be a very big turnoff,” Patrick says as he winds his arms around David’s neck, as  _ if _ that would be any kind of turnoff for him, “but I don’t want to rush anything with this. I don’t know if I’m ready to take this to the next level right away.” 

Patrick’s eyes flicker upward, towards the stairs where Patrick’s bedroom is and...oh David understands now. 

“We can take this at whatever pace you want. And as long you make breakfast as good as you did dinner tonight, I am not going to have any complaints about my stay here,” David jokes as he attempts to reassure his partner. Who’s not just his business partner now. 

“Not even about Ray’s drunk singing?” Patrick teases, humor lacing his every word. 

“That'll be a footnote, if anything.” 

It seems to make Patrick laugh, god knows how or why, but it makes David’s cheeks heat up. He doesn’t have too much time to examine it as Patrick leans up again and kisses him again, more sure this time even as he lets David take the lead, and David’s chest swells with some kind of special feeling that he can’t define that Patrick chose him, trusts him with this and not some other man. 

He’ll have to send a text to Alexis later thanking her for getting lice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Hopefully the angst of the last chapter wasn't too much to bear, I just love some classic miscommunication that ends up forcing love confessions. I've had a lot of fun exploring this AU and sharing it with y'all. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you liked the first chapter of this story! It's going to be a two chapter story, and the next one will be posted next week. This is my first time officially writing for the characters and the show, so please feel free to offer any constructive criticism! 
> 
> The title comes from Lenka's song "Heart Skips A Beat".


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